


Rub Down

by Airasyraye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Comfort, Hotel Sex, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airasyraye/pseuds/Airasyraye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a friend's birthday. It's set between 2.11 and 2.12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rub Down

Dean shoved his way into the motel room, cursing. Shaking snow off of himself, he stamped his boots, and looked over at Sam, who was sitting at the table, holding a mug of something steaming.

“It’s colder than Frosty’s nutsack!” Dean grumbled. 

“Nice visual,” Sam said.

His tone was lackluster. Dean tossed down the bags containing provisions he’d braved the falling snow and aching cold for onto the bed and stared at him, rubbing his hands in an effort to warm them up. Winchesters were not prepared for freezing weather. Dean had only regular boots, a jacket too light for the bitter cold, and no gloves or hat. It was -15 with the wind chill factor and snow was three feet deep and still falling. Roads were closed out of the town. They were stuck and more than a day’s drive from Milwaukee, where they were headed to investigate a rash of robberies that ended with the robbers committing suicides. It stank of a curse or something. Who robbed people and then immediately killed themselves?

But they’d have to wait to find out. The snowstorm was entirely unexpected, a late April blizzard out of left field, bogging everything down and leaving hundreds of people scrambling to cope. Wrecks were everywhere, the hospital was overwhelmed, and the three main grocery stores had been practically pillaged. Dean had managed to go down and get a handful of things to keep himself and his brother alive, but there was no telling how long they’d be there.

At least the motel was surprisingly nice for so cheap. It actually looked and smelled clean; both beds were soft with warm comforters; the heat, mini fridge, microwave, hair dryer, and clothing iron all actually worked; and the shower was large enough that his giant of a brother didn’t have to crouch to wash. Now that he had brought back some food and Baby was still safely tucked away in the corner of the lot where she likely wouldn’t get slid into, it might not be too terribly bad.

Leaving the rest of the groceries on the bed, Dean grabbed his overnight bag and headed into the bathroom to get out of his wet clothes and warm up. Coming back out, he started unloading the rest of the groceries.

“Minnesota officially sucks,” Dean said. “I nominate it for ‘Suckiest State’.”

Sam merely grunted. Dean frowned at him. Sam was turned away, looking out the window at the softly falling snow. Dean balled up the plastic bags and threw them at his head. Sam just brushed them off the table and didn’t turn around.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Dean demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You look like the star of some cheesy introspective album cover.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Not happening. You’re the one always on me about sharing feelings, so spill, bitch.”

No return ‘jerk’ or anything. Dean reached out, grabbed Sam’s cup, and sniffed it. 

“What is this, emo tea?”

“Dean, leave me alone, man.” Sam growled when Dean cocked his hip on the table, leaned across it on his elbow, and stared about four inches from Sam’s face with intentionally overly large eyes. 

“Not a chance there, Sammy. Come on, man, it’s me. Spill.”

“All right, you want to know?! Fine! How about the fact that we’re-we’re-we’re two stupid kids running around using our lives to kill monsters and what, never have lives of our own? Dad’s dead, dead!, and Mom, too, and Jess and it’s just you and me against whatever is happening here and what if I lose you, too? Or we screw up again and some other innocent person dies because we were too slow or too stupid to figure out what’s going on, like that guy at the hotel, or Ava’s boyfriend, or Ava? This is demons, Dean! Demons--we are way out of our league! So we got that one on the plane, so what, and that one in the trap, both times are probably just luck. I was supposed to go to Stanford and be a lawyer and you…damn it, Dean you never got to be anything and you could be whatever you wanted to be--you’re so smart and strong and good and all you are is my keeper and that’s not fair to you and what about the fact that I’m--I’m some sort of psychic wind-up toy waiting to be unleashed on the world and you’re supposed to save me or kill me?!”

Sam was up now, ranting, pacing back and forth and waving his arms, red in the face and maybe even near tears, but certainly just about to hyperventilate. Dean stood up off the table and grabbed Sam by the biceps.

“Hey, hey. Stop, Sammy, look at me.” Sam was shaking his head back and forth rapidly, breathing shakily and looking anywhere but at Dean. Dean shook him. “LOOK AT ME.”

Sam did. Dean moved his hands from his biceps to his face, framing it and holding it.

“Listen to me, Sam. We’ll do this. You and me, man. That’s all that matters. No one is using you for anything. We’ll find out where the fuck Azazel is and then we’ll end him. For killing Mom, for killing Dad, for trying to make you a tool. I mean, you’re always a tool, but--” Not even a faint smile from Sam, but he was staring steadily into Dean’s eyes. “--but nothing is going to happen to us. We’re the Winchester Brothers, man. Nothing beats us. You and me, got it?”

“Dean--”

Dean released Sam’s face and gestured at the bed. “Come on. Lay down.”

“Dean?”

“Lay down, man, come on.” Dean walked over to Sam’s duffel, rummaged around, and pulled out the massage oil in there. Sam was still standing, looking uncertain, pale, and so fucking stressed out. Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at the bed. “Lay down, damn it.”

“Haven’t done this in forever,” Sam murmured, turning away and yanking his shirts up and off. He settled down on his belly. 

“Yeah, does massage oil expire?” Dean popped open the top and sniffed it. It smelled good, nice and spicy, and Dean purred.

“Got some new kind,” Sam said. “Spiced apple pie.”

Dean groaned happily, knowing that Sam had chosen that just for him, then walked over, settling himself down on the bed beside Sam. He poured some on his hands and rubbed them together, warming it up. The scent of spiced apples flooded the room and he groaned again. Sam chuckled softly where he was waiting. 

“Should I leave?” 

“Nope. You’re going to lay right there and let me take care of you.”

Sam sighed softly. Dean reached out and gently rested his hands on Sam’s shoulders. He began to rub, smoothing the spiced oil over Sam’s skin, then began to dig in his fingers. The muscles were tense, as expected, and he began to dig harder, trying to work out the knots. After a moment, he shifted, swinging his leg over Sam’s hips and settling on his ass. He leaned into Sam, adding his weight, rubbing and kneading. He watched as Sam slowly relaxed, shifting incrementally, getting comfortable. His brother’s eyes were closed, arms wound around the pillow, looking peaceful finally.

“That feels good,” Sam sighed. 

Dean smiled, kneading deeper, then rubbed with open hands, stroking Sam’s skin, watching the slow rise and fall of his breathing. He then crooked his fingers and began scritching his blunt nails slowly down the long length of his back. Sam squirmed a bit, turned his head to the other side, smiling with his eyes closed. Dean shifted, pressing his hands against Sam’s back, then leaning forward and slowly pressing a kiss against the top of Sam’s spine. The spicy massage oil tingled his lips and he began dropping lots of little kisses along Sam’s shoulders. 

Sam gasped softly, raising his head enough to look at Dean over his shoulder. Dean met his gaze, holding it for a moment, then went back to peppering kisses against his skin. Sam sighed in contentment and lay his head back down. Dean ran his palms down his back, chasing them with his lips to the shoulder blades before leaning back up and working his way slowly up Sam’s neck. He kissed along his jaw, then stopped, breathing against Sam’s ear.

“Good?”

“Mmhmm.”

Dean smiled fondly and sat back up. He continued his ministrations, rubbing and kneading, stroking Sam’s skin, until the massage oil had been worked in deep. Then Dean stilled and studied his brother. Sam was stretched out, half-dozing, relaxed. Dean raised up and swung off. He stretched and started to get off the bed when Sam suddenly turned and grabbed his arm. He rolled slowly over onto his side and smiled lazily. 

“You always know how to make me feel better,” he sighed.

“S’what I do, Sammy.”

“Sam,” his brother murmured, even as he sat up on his arm and reached up, cupping the back of his head. He drew Dean into him, eyes fixed on his lips. “It’s just Sam.”

“Sammy,” Dean responded, grinning slowly as Sam huffed in his face. 

“Um, can we…?”

Dean smiled at his almost shyness. He reached out and cupped the back of Sam’s head in turn, leaning in and kissing him gently on the mouth. Sam sighed into it and tilted his head. Dean slid his fingers into Sam’s hair and moved his mouth over his slowly, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip before drawing back, watching as Sam opened his eyes. 

“Come here,” Dean whispered. 

Sam scooted over on the bed, pressing into Dean as Dean took his mouth in another kiss. He kept it soft and tender, little smooches that smacked in the stillness of the hotel room, that gave way to Sam’s soft sighs as he moved to his neck, sucking on his pulse point. He ran his hand down Sam’s body, sliding up along his ribs, then grinned as Sam squirmed with a tickled laugh. They worked off the rest of their clothes, trading more soft kisses, tongue only little teasing flicks, neither going for rougher. Dean kissed Sam one final time on the mouth and then pulled back, nearly falling off the edge of the bed, but righting himself and ignoring Sam’s chuckles. He pushed and prodded at his brother until Sam was on his other side, facing away. He stopped just long enough to clean his hands, knowing better to go for sensitive spots when there might be spiced oil on his hands, and then grabbed the lube that was in his own duffel. He returned to the bed, climbing back in behind Sam and pressed up against his back. 

Popping open the lube with one hand, Dean poured some out onto Sam’s hip, ignoring his annoyed grunt, and tossed the lube onto the floor. Sliding his fingers through the lube, he trailed them down along the curve of his lower back and teased between his cheeks, propped up on his other arm while his index found his entrance and circled around the pucker. Sam sighed and pressed his right leg forward, giving Dean more room. Dean slowly worked him up to three fingers while he rained more kisses along Sam’s shoulders and neck, nibbling feather light against his ear. Once Sam was taking three fingers easily and looking half-delirious with arousal, Dean pulled back his hand and gathered up the rest of the lube from his hip to slick himself up. He slipped his uppermost leg between Sam’s and hiked his brother’s leg up before sinking inside him.

“Dean…”

“Sammy.” Dean pressed himself tight against Sam’s back, wrapping his arm around his waist and nipping at his shoulder. 

“Fuck, we should do this more often,” Sam murmured.

Dean didn’t respond except to press Sam’s chin and turn his head to his, leaning over him to kiss him more deeply than before, beginning to slowly roll his hips. Sam moaned against his mouth, reaching his hand back to run it over Dean’s hip and thigh, about all he could reach, before he reached up and cupped the back of Dean’s head, running his fingers through his short hair. 

“Faster,” Sam mumbled.

“No.” Dean kept the pace slow, still nibbling delicately at Sam’s lips, the hand at his chin trailing fingertips down his neck and chest to his belly, around to his hip, ignoring his erection. 

They hadn’t done this in ages. It wasn’t something they planned or talked about. It just happened, usually as a means of comfort, sometimes to work off excess energy, rarely just for fun. It worked for them and Dean was going to continue take his time, work Sam over gently. 

He angled his hips, hitching Sam’s leg up higher until Sam mewled quietly into his mouth. 

“Right there?” Dean asked against Sam’s lips, grinning. 

Sam nodded, eyes still closed, his breathing beginning to pick up a little. Dean kissed his cheek, his ear, nuzzled into his hair, which was starting to get so shaggy and long. He rolled his hips, finally sliding his hand across Sam’s body to his cock. He teased it with just his fingertips, making his brother moan and try to thrust without much leverage. His fingers were gripping the sheets in front of him and he had his head bowed now, little sighs escaping his lips. Dean moved from fingertips to wrapping his whole hand around Sam’s dick, beginning to stroke slow and tight. Sam groaned, his head tossing back onto Dean’s shoulder, eyes closed, lips parted, the picture of slow-building pleasure. 

“Dean…”

“Gorgeous, Sammy,” Dean murmured in his ear. “Love the way you sound.”

“Nngh.”

Dean grinned, nuzzling his face into Sam’s hair. Sam’s hand came up and cupped the back of his head again, nails scratching through his short hair, then flailing down and grabbing at Dean’s ass, trying to pull him into a faster pace. Dean groaned, but resisted, mouthing at Sam’s cheek and down his neck before he dragged his tongue back up and nibbled at Sam’s ear, feeling Sam starting to shake. Dean started undulating his hips more firmly, driving Sam toward his end, but still refusing to hurry. Pleasure was spiking through his nerves, the tight heat of his brother straining his endurance, but he was going to hold out and get him there.

“Yeah, need to do this to you more often,” Dean murmured in Sam’s ear. “Make such pretty noises. Feel so good around me.” He shoved his hips harder and hummed when Sam gasped. 

Sam’s head dropped back onto his shoulder and he was making little ‘ahh ahh’ noises. He stopped flexing his fingers in Dean’s thigh and grabbed the back of his head again, turning his own to kiss him desperately on the mouth. Dean groaned as Sam sucked on his bottom lip and he moved the hand stroking his brother up, rubbing the head firmly with his calloused palm, hearing Sam’s whimpers turn to low groans. The kiss broke and Sam’s head bowed again as all his muscles pulled taut. Dean knew he was teetering on the edge and he jerked against him once, twice, and then Sam was coming. Dean buried his face against Sam’s shoulder as he clenched around him, cock pulsing in his grip, spilling over his fingers. 

As Sam’s shudders ceased, Dean removed his hand and pushed Sam over onto his belly as he rose up over him, using the new leverage to begin pounding into him, chasing his own orgasm. Sam grunted beneath him, soft fucked-out whimpers punching out of him with every snap of Dean’s hips. A minute later and Dean came, burying his face into Sam’s hair and groaning as tingles raced through him. Breathing hard, he slowly withdrew and then settled down onto Sam’s back, pressing a few more kisses into Sam’s skin before resting his cheek against his back and relaxing. 

Sam was a long boneless line under him, sweaty and hot. After a moment, Dean rolled off him onto his back, turning his head to look at him. Sam was looking back, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Dean reached over and brushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. Sam smiled drowsily, eyes falling shut. 

“So you and me, huh?” he whispered.

Dean nodded, stroking his hand along Sam’s spine to the dip in his back. “You and me, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” his brother mumbled as he drifted off. 

Dean eased out of bed. He turned and look down at his brother sprawled sated and peaceful on the bed. Dean reached down and gathered up the top sheet, drawing it up over Sam, then leaned down and kissed his temple before whispering in his ear with a smirk.

“Sammy.”


End file.
